Cycling Journal – Primarily this journal is for my reading, to look back on at a later date and remember. Hopefully, I've injected enough humour and story telling to interest others that wish to read it.
I took the saddle from the old/winter/commuting bike and stuck it on the new baby. As it happens I think it still needs a little adjustment so might have another quickie ride midweek. The white saddle on the all black number doesn’t look so good but the quality of the ride is more important than the looks.
Today’s ride out was meant to be just a spin to check out the saddle. It turned out to be a lung bursting, thigh burning, wound tugging ten mile blast.
It was early days and the first real trip for both of us. A little Island of the west coast of Scotland so close to home – Arran was our Alps. Both of us were lacking in fitness and were both carrying a little more weight than we are now so the big hills on this Island felt like mountains.
To be honest Aldo was carrying a bit more extra weight than I was and was a good bit less fit. I’m not calling him a fat bastard but he really struggled to climb out of every town. I’m not calling myself an evil bastard but every time I would wait for him at a point near the top of the hill, rest, wait for him to catch up again and carry on my way giving him no respite
These days Aldo is fitter and stronger than I am, he waits for me on hills and doesn’t fuck off when I catch him.
This years trip to the French Alps was all Aldo’s choosing, we agreed this. But I can’t help thinking he just wants his own back.